Page 103 of The Match Faker

I wasn’t worrying about my career and what a fuck-up I was like I did most nights. I wasn’t fretting about another story leaking in the press. And I wasn’t concerned about my feelings towards Mia. She’d agreed to stay here every night, and knowing that somehow brought me some kind of peace.

When she’d said she was going back to her place, it was like a hole had been carved in my gut. A weird empty feeling took over, which shocked me. I’d got used to having her around. It was like how it used to be. Back when we were best friends. But a million times better. Because this time, I wasn’t a teenager who spent his nights wondering what it’d be like to kiss Mia. To touch her. To be inside her.

Now I’d experienced all of those things and it was even more amazing than I’d imagined.

I was kidding myself to think we’d be able to do it just that one time and cut all ties. And when she’d kissed me at the theatre, I knew it wasn’t just for show. She felt the connection too.

Was I worried about what would happen when I had to go back to LA? The truth was, it was better not to think about it. I just wanted to enjoy this whilst it lasted.

It wouldn’t be forever. All relationships ended. My parents’ marriage was a shitshow and the so-called ‘happy couples’ I knew spent their days living a lie. They publicly presented themselves as the perfect partners, but at least one of them was fucking someone else on the side. Sometimes they both were.

I didn’t want that kind of life. I did enough acting for my job. The last thing I wanted was to have to put on a performance at home.

That was why I wasn’t concerned. I had zero expectations about where this would go, because I knew that everything, even an amazing connection like what I had with Mia, was temporary. And knowing that made things easier. We’d enjoy each other’s company, whether that lasted another week or month, and then we’d move on. Get on with our lives.

I caught sight of my back in the full-length mirror. Red scratches were visible across my skin. No wonder I’d felt that sting in the shower. Mia liked to dig her nails into me when she came, and seeing as that had happened a few times last night, she’d left her mark. Knowing that I’d made her happy made me feel so damn good.

After getting dressed, I headed to the stairs, but stopped outside the office door.

There was nothing in my diary today, so technically, I could spend it doing whatever I wanted.

I pushed the door open, walked to the desk and switched on my laptop.

My heart thudded. It had been ages since I’d felt like doing this, but Mia’s words yesterday had triggered something deep inside of me.

There’s nothing wrong with having dreams or wanting to make a difference in the world.

You have value, Liam. Never forget that.

Mia sounded genuine. She believed in me. She saw me. Knew that there was more to me than just the money, fame and how I looked.

Everything she said was different to what people had told me all of my life. And that was why I’d started my secret project: writing a screenplay. But I’d never finished it.

Whenever I tried to sit down and write, all I could hear was other people’s voices in my head.

Stay in your lane.

You’re not good enough.

Those roles are for proper actors, not you.

The negative voices always won, so even if I got as far as opening my laptop, I usually ended up closing it soon afterwards. I’d tried to finish this damn screenplay for two years, but rarely managed to write more than a few pages before the self-doubt crept in.

But today felt different. I wanted to try again. I actually felt like maybe I could do this.

Mia’s words jumped into my head again:

You’re Liam fucking Stone. You can do anything.

Fuck it.

I pulled out the chair, sat my arse down and opened up the document.

Adrenaline and excitement raced through me as my ideas came flooding back.

After reading through the last few scenes I’d written to refresh my memory, I started typing.

And this time, I didn’t stop.

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